Push the Button
by verbal acuity
Summary: SanaKiri - He really did it this time; now he had it coming to him - smut. oneshot.


**push the button**  
by **with love - fred  
disclaimer**: I still don't own. ;o; maybe one day I will.  
**a/n**: I'm on a kirihara kick right nao. expect more kirihara stories soon. and ignore the title. I just liked it.  
happy 8/8/8! 8DDD  
**warnings**: mm, sanakiri smut. he really did have it coming to him. ;o  
**also**: implied nioukiri, and implied yukikiri.

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He'd really done it this time. He pissed off fukubuchou so badly that he was pinned by his throat to the shower stall in the Rikkai locker rooms. He didn't even think Sanada had those kind of buttons -- you know, the ones where you mention _accidentally_ what Yukimura-buchou did to you the night before. Sanada was jealous, apparently, that little Akaya got a piece of Sanada's love before he himself could ("Kirihara's a second year, for fuck's sake, how come he gets it from Seiichi before I do!").

The Junior Ace realized that he'd never seen his capped fukubuchou this mad before ... and he had reason to blame himself. Buchou had blatantly said not to mention it around any of the Rikkai regulars -- or anyone for that matter -- especially Niou and Sanada. If Kirihara didn't tell Sanada, but he somehow let it slip to Niou, the trickster would have told fukubuchou himself out of spite (something about Yukimura getting whatever he wants, even Niou's glory hole). Either way, Akaya was screwed in three different ways.

He groaned as the hold on his neck tightened, cutting all air from his lungs. Biting hard into his bottom lip, he tried to squirm from the grip and slink to the floor, but Sanada was too strong. His eyes, which were previously closed, opened in hopes of seeing at least a triumphant smirk because of his agony, but his fukubuchou was too solid, uncaring to even show that he was winning.

In a fit of bravery (or stupidity), he grasped the taller boy's wrist, nails digging into the flesh. No reaction. Shit, nothing was working. It wasn't easy to break Sanada Genichirou.

"F-Fukubuchou ... _please_, I--"

The grip tightened again and, if anything, the cold eyes narrowed even more dangerously. But he still wasn't talking. The second year could only guess that Sanada was only trying to figure out a way to kill him and dump the body. Without Yukimura noticing. Not that that was easy, or anything.

Without warning, the hand lessened its grip and he began to slip down the linoleum wall, but those calloused fingers grasped the collar of his jersey, pulled, and tore the top buttons off. The rest of the shirt came off soon after. As his bare back came in contact with the cold linoleum, he let out a shriek, only to be silenced by a rough kiss. Wait, _what_--

Fukubuchou was supposed to _hate_ him and _kill_ him. Not _kiss_ him! Hey, what kind of punishment is this, anyway? Did Niou-senpai con you into this? If he got out of it alive, he'd have to go after Niou for this. Bastard.

He didn't dare push him away, for fear of his neck being broken in turn; he had to live to kill Niou-senpai, after all. But he didn't have to anyway. The lips that were occupying his own suddenly pulled away and he caught his breath. But those hands kept going ... until they reached his track pants. That was definitely not right. He opened his mouth to speak, but another shriek came out instead. His pants were pulled down entirely.

Okay, he was basically fully naked with his fukubuchou who, up until now, he thought hated him. Maybe he did hate him and rape is, you know, his way of getting back at people. But, really? He thought his fukubuchou would stay a precious little flower until Yukimura-buchou gave in. Hehe. But apperently that was not the case here. No. The case here was the fact that he _was about to be raped by someone he really didn't want to be raped by_. Though ... no one really wanted rape.

This time, when he opened his mouth to protest, he wouldn't be stop-- _Why_ were fukubuchou's _fingers_ in his _mouth_?

...

Not good.

_Maybe if I bit..._ he considered, but one look into those cold, angry eyes, he knew better.

And Sanada _still_ wasn't talking! This was so not fair. He wouldn't let Kirihara talk, and he was being silent, too! The ebony-haired player hated silence, well, when Marui-senpai was concerned, he liked it, but Sanada-fukubuchou was too silent and he needed noise to be able to handle the constant dark cloud that is his fukubuchou. Yukimura-buchou usually let him talk (even smiled when his kouhai talked!), and listened intently.

Suddenly, the fingers weren't in his mouth anymore. And they were moving lower and lower and lower, his green-apple eyes watching until they disappeared. The orbs disappeared too, beneath his eyelids as his eyes closed, waiting for the penetration. Niou-senpai had taken it upon himself to do this to little Akaya, and recently, Yukimura-buchou had. His senpai-tachi liked to take advantage of his smaller state, apparently.

But that didn't mean that he _wanted_ Sanada-fukubuchou inside him. No. Far from that.

_Niou-senpai.. Buchou.. Please..._

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood this time, he felt the first finger slip in, followed by the second, the two scissoring for a few moments before pulling out. There was absolutely _no pleasure_ in that. At all. (Niou and Yukimura had prepared him more than that, and made him feel _good_).

And, there went Sanada's own track pants. He waited to be penetrated again, eyes closed tight, but it never came. He feared to reopen his eyes. Something squeaked loudly, as if protesting something, and he cringed at the feel of freezing cold water running along his chest.

His eyes finally opened and he was pulled directly under the water, getting soaked just as much as their discarded clothes on the shower stall floor. It figured that someone as cold as Sanada Genichirou liked _cold_ water. He shivered and half wondered why the water was on, then it clicked -- lubrication. It was a little better than being taken completely dry. Though he was still a little slicked from his.. own... saliva.

Just as he got used to the cold-as-his-fukubuchou water, it became almost scalding hot, pounding on his back as he and Sanada switched positions and turned. That.. fucking.. _burns_! He almost screamed. Almost. But he didn't want to anger the third year any more than he already had. This was just so lame. Though he did wonder why the sudden change in water temperature. But he remembered that cold makes you.. shrink.

Wet hands made their way to his own wet hips and lifted him, pinning him back to the wall. Held between the wall and Sanada, the hands no longer needed to hold him, and they found their way to his obsidian thighs, lifting slightly and wrapping them around his fukubuchou's hips. He was silently commanded to hold himself there. And he obeyed.

Again, without warning, he felt the head of Sanada's arousal press inside him, slowly, but not too gently. He released a groan and leaned his head against the wall, bracing himself for the full penetration.

After a few, agonizing moments, the full arousal was engulfed by his tight heat, seated and unmoving. Sanada never let out one single noise. This entire time. He was starting to think that his fukubuchou was seriously made of stone.

It was painful to have all of Sanada in him, but he'd had Niou plenty of times (the trickster was a horny little bugger when Yagyuu wasn't around), and he'd had Yukimura once. It wasn't new to him. But Sanada was _big_. For his age, that is.

Then he moved, out and in, out and in, continually, speeding up each time he re-entered the smaller boy. Kirihara let out a moan as the head hit his prostate, his eyes opening wide, hands wrapping tightly around the sturdy neck, fingers curling together. _Fuck_, it felt good when Sanada did that. Even better than Niou and Yukimura, he was shocked to admit. _Sanada, you just sold your soul_. He felt himself hardening at the feeling of his prostate continuously getting hit. And Sanada was _still_ rock-hard (no pun intended), not changing his expression or making a noise.

_Maybe_, he wondered. _Maybe, it wasn't so bad that fukubuchou found out that buchou took me..._ He smirked, despite his situation. If anything, he'd have to _repay_ Niou for this. Mm.

One of the previously unoccupied hands moved and grasped Akaya's own arousal and pumped in tune with his thrusts. Even Sanada wasn't completely heartless in that department. Besides, he's getting from the little brat what he couldn't get from Seiichi. That had to stand for something.

He sped up, feeling himself come close, but there was no way he'd finish before his kouhai -- that'd be degrading.

Managing for the most part, he slowed his own thrusts down and pumped the smaller boy faster and, upon feeling the slowly-loosening walls clamp tightly around his arousal, knew that he could speed up once again (it was so hard to not pummel him into the wall).

His finger grazed the tip of Kirihara and, with a loud cry, the Junior Ace came, Sanada following soon after.

Pulling out, he grasped the green-eyed boy's shoulders to keep him from falling, though he didn't know why. Apparently being so intimate with the brat had softened Sanada up a little (no. pun. intended).

When the boy seemed okay to hold himself, he reached over and turned the knob, shutting off the water. The junior didn't move from where he was left. His chest rose and fell as he panted, bracing the wall to keep himself steady if he wanted to remain standing. Facing him again, the usually capped boy gave Kirihara a small glance, turned, and grabbed the nearest towel. Without a word, he left the shower stall.

Oh, Kirihara wanted to punch him right then.

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**reviews are nice for someone who's still a little rusty when it comes to prince of tennis fanfiction since I've been gone from writing for a while.**

**and there's still a poll on my page. 8D**


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